Her parents had named her after the well-mannered and helpful Apple program, hoping she would one day grow up to be a similar fine woman. Of course, fewer people could lay claim to being more wrong.

She sipped a fine glass of Sauvignon and put her legs up on the glass table- for once, she let herself smile. How successful she was, to be at the helm of the largest ship in the brikverse- she had re-christened it the Göttërdammerung, from its previous name the McFaden.

But she acknowledged she was still not in charge. At least, not for now.

Siri fingered the steel communicator in her hand, possessed by an impious mixture of anticipation, confidence, and apprehension. She worked tirelessly at the Third Alliance headquarters on Trion, currying favor in anticipation for what would be one of the defining moments in her career. The hard part was gathering support for her little project, accumulating wunderwaffe of all kinds on both land and space- all that was left was finishing her grand plan once and for all. She waited, staring off into the distant stars, the eternal burning furnaces. She was assured that Scythian Deities were putting those fires out one by one, in an unceasing effort to curb the immortals- but the extragalactic intruders were so slow in everything, and the war had long died, confined to Scythian space. It was not of her concern.

Instead, what was of her concern was an unimaginable distance away, hidden by a tangled nest of black holes not even the most advanced FTL systems could penetrate. Luckily, the RIN proved to be useful in at least some capacity for that...

The communicator lit up, and Siri found her fingers embedded into the holographic man’s legs. She quickly sorted herself into a more professional stance and replied.

“Yes, my Herr Direktor. What have you called for?”. She already knew the answer to this question, but decided to go along with the formality.

“Warp your fleet to the Rendezvous point, third planet of the Bianca system. You will find the RIN, Briktoid, and Prussian fleets to be there already.”

“Excellent,” Siri replied. “It is only a matter of time before we can execute the grand plan.”

Kommander Alec paused for a moment. “Do you honestly believe this plan will work?”

“Do I smell fear in that voice? The greatest heroes achieve their feats only if they never stop to think about them.”

She then flicked off the holograph, and turned to a waiting captain.

“Tell the physicists and engineers to initiate warp, Rendezvous point.”

“Affirmative, my lady.” he quickly responded, before yelling the order across the vast bridge.

(Alright, I'm going to handle the AN thing like the Fall of Fico, with a short story for now but maybe a brikwars a few years down the line. Also, if you have any criticism or suggestions please say them).

Nice job! I like where this story is going. It'd be a good idea to keep a core cast of characters (Siri, Piltogg, Alec) and give other leaders time too. (Even though it looks like you're already doing a good job of that).

@RM: Yes, there is a core cast of Siri (obviously, kind of in a central role), Kommander Alec, Zweitekaiser Klaus (not as much though, he hasn't been around long enough for me to get a feel for his character), and an AN Scythian lieutenant with cameos of other characters.

In the meanwhile, have a filler chapter.

The Rendezvous point was quite a sight- a squadron of RIN super-dreadnoughts hung motionless in the vacuum of space, surrounded by a swarm of smaller ships. The Briktoid mass-produced frigates, on the other hand, eclipsed the sun through their sheer numbers. And it wasn’t long before the agglomeration of white Trattorian ships showed up to the party, followed quickly by a Luchardsko task force. Siri was initially impressed by the sheer number of ships gathered for the cause, while Kommander Alec was surprised at seeing the Göttërdammerung’s full half-kilometer length. They both thought the gathering was comparable to the forces involved over Erebeus Three. Of course, it wasn’t long before the commanders of this force soon became bored chilling their heels while waiting for their allies.

“Those pesky Bavarians, always late and incompetent.” murmured Kommander Alec. He was still bitter about the time the Bavarian Otto tried to overthrow him as Uberkaiser. The current Uberkaiser, Piltogg, forced the two nations to overcome their differences and work together towards the common goal of galactic domination, but despite this, their relationship was still an icy one.

A message flashed across his screen.

“Arriving in ETA of 5 minutes.

-Zweitekaiser Klaus von Fynnvaria”

“About time, wouldn’t you think?” he thought. Regardless, politics was politics, and he typed out a polite and friendly reply to his rival. He then called Siri.

“My friend, the Bavarians are almost here! Your plan will soon come to fruition.”

He was met by silence on the other end. Kommander Alec repeated her name over and over again to ensure she wasn’t just assassinated by some rebels.

“Yes, you fool. I was just...occupied. I understand everything going on like Bonn-o-Tron.”

The Herr Direktor was incensed at being treated with such disrespect, but decided leaving Siri to her own devices might lead to something significant.

His thoughts were interrupted by a bright blue flash, as the Bavarian fleet group burst into real-space again. Kommander Alec giggled to himself- the Bavarian’s “flagship”, the SS Teutoburger, was merely a fraction of the length of one of his super-dreadnoughts. He then contacted Zweitekaiser Klaus.

“You’ve arrived, even if slightly late. Is your fleet ready?”

If Fynnvaria was embarrassed, his voice didn’t show. “Of course. Now that everybody is here, activate Project Amerikabomber.”

Kommander Alec himself relayed the orders to an unremarkable saucer craft protected in the middle of the RIN group- but inside, RT-powered machinery worked unceasingly alongside the top scientists of the brikverse. A normal invasion of the United Systems Alliance would have been impossible, but Siri was undeterred, and ordered a combination of RIN RT and Akkadian teleportation technology.

And they scaled it up.

The experimental saucer craft, Der Vorsprung, could in theory instantly transport thousands of capitol ship-scale craft across any obstacle, be it asteroids, black holes, and even the most advanced anti-warportal shields. No location in the brik-verse was safe, not even the heart of the United Systems Alliance. The crew of Der Vorsprung received the orders, and the captain tapped the chief engineer on the shoulder. The chief engineer was slightly apprehensive, asking the captain once more if the orders were real.

New York- the planet that never sleeps. It orbited a normal, yellow star, and was located right in the middle of the system’s habitable zone. The entire land mass of the planet was covered in cities, and some of the most important locations of the brikverse, including the NY Stock Exchange and, of course, the Allied Nations Headquarters.

The United Systems Alliance’s 500 systems were safely nestled away from the rest of the galaxy by a massive wall of black holes, impassable to all but the most advanced hyperdrives- the typical route was to slog it out above or below the barrier. Consequently, the USA had never been invaded for the past two-hundred G.R’s- but that was about to change.

AN Force Commander Payton of the Praetorian Empire put her legs up on her desk and lit a cigarette- at this point, the AN Peacekeeping and PAX Corps was all but dominated by the Praetorians. The ship she commanded was no shaggy old boat either- the Spirit of Ragnablok belonged to the fourth-largest ship class in the brik-verse. The ship boasted two mighty amygdala-disruptor arrays that could give an entire planet the Clockwork Orange treatment.

She remembered her humble days as a border patroller, on the edge of Praetorian space- she had gotten pretty far since then, if she did say so herself. Now, the fates of empires laid in her hands, waiting only for the orders of the AN Security Council.

She got up, and stood quietly in front of a window, admiring the view.

“All I need now to set the atmosphere is a good glass of scotch” she thought to herself, when all of a sudden a Scythian lieutenant opened the door, a yellow bottle in hand.

“The Praetorian delegate from the AN DISEC committee would like to congratulate you on a successful pacification mission to Vergilius Raskolnikov’s Empire.” he stated.

“Fabulous,” she replied, taking the bottle. “Those little naughty gits screamed and wriggled helplessly under the might of the AN. As to those Third Alliance noobs- they haven’t done anything! They’ve given up! It’s not like they’re somehow planning to attack us here- that would be suicide. No empire has a fleet large enough to stand a USA carrier group.”

“Indeed, good luck on your next mission.” the lieutenant murmured. He paused, then added on “The funny thing is we are technically at war. I should shoot you in the face, but instead here I am giving you free alcohol under the banner of the AN.”

“The AN is indeed a funny invention of minifig-kind,” Admiral Payton finished. She then continued her star-gazing in utter silence. If she had stared a little harder, she might have noticed a small red flash. Not like she would have thought much of it, anyway.

The Third Alliance fleet materialized just out of range of the New York home defense group’s detection range. Immediately, Siri, Alec, and Klaus got to work, organizing the fleet and ensuring everything was in order. They contacted the Conifer’s shell program, IR337l, and made sure the cannon fodder mass-produced Frigates were on line.

And then, the fleet moved up, and they fired every single gun they had down at the unsuspecting AN fleet.

Practically the entire AN fleet was gathered here- frigates, cruisers, dozens of battleships and the Spirit of Ragnablok, along with a good-sized body of USA ships. They had noticed too late the incoming barrage, trying to shoot down the kinetic kill-weapons, but there was nothing they could do against the thousands of bolts of lasers except divert power and brace their shields. It was indeed, the twilight of the gods.

The lasers finally arrived a few seconds later. Many of the smaller ships didn’t even get a chance to fight, their shields burned through and their metal hulls fried by the storm of light. The Spirit of Ragnablok, with shields designed to withstand continuous fire from even the most potent ship turrets known to minifigs, Scythian antimatter projectors, saw its shield power visibly decreasing to dangerously low levels. To the utterly surprised AN crew the few seconds the barrage lasted seemed like hours. When the proverbial smoke was cleared, all that remained was a miniature asteroid belt of wreckage and bodies.

Siri simply watched from an iPad, safely and comfortably in the bridge of the Göttërdammerung, and smirked. Briktoid Automata would probably say the field looked like a bad game of Starcraft involving stack hacks. And with the numbers she brought, that was probably true. But she was still not satisfied.

The Spirit of Ragnablok stood firm, not even scratched thanks to its powerful shields. Surrounding it were the burning carcasses of a score of Praetorian battleships intermingled with jagged black and sand green titanium.

“Send the DMF-class rammer super-dreadnought after it.” she ordered offhandedly.

The DMF-class was a rather unique design, consisting of a giant OTC and a ship built around it. It was the ultimate super-dreadnought kill weapon.

The captain acquiesced, and ordered in turn for full speed ahead. It quickly covered the distance in a matter of seconds, and the few shots that successfully hit it bounced laughably off its incredible shields. It relentlessly continued forward like an angry piranha homing in on its prey, until there were ten seconds remaining between it and the Spirit of Ragnablok’s utter destruction. Suddenly a deck-hand approached the captain.

“Captain, the shields have failed for an unknown reason! We may not survive impact. Energy patterns are consistent...”

“Say what?” was all the captain could get out before the un-shielded DMF collided head-on with the shields of the Spirit of Ragnablok. Titanium, gears, and OT flew in every direction, hitting the dreadnought, any surrounding surviving ships, and some even falling to the planet below.

Siri paused momentarily. Something had clearly gone wrong, and she had no idea what it was. But she was unfazed. The battle had already been a massacre as it was, and besides, she always had a dozen more of those DMF ships anyway.

“What the hell was that?” demanded Admiral Payton. She had been called to the bridge for some sort of “emergency”.

The Scythian lieutenant came up again and quickly filled her in.

“A massive Third Alliance fleet group consisting of about seven-thousand warships warped into the system and decimated our group. They have all paused momentarily to charge their weapons.”

“Fire the main Amygdala-Disruptor array. That should teach them the relevant lesson. Plus, it’s fully within AN protocol at this point,” she claimed. Even now, the alcohol caused her mind to slide a little.

The crew immediately complied, hoping they could stop the entire threat from the onset.

Instead, they hit a mass of mechanical, unfeeling Mass-Produced Frigates. If Briktoid’s IR337l could laugh, it would have.

Bereft of using her main weapon, Admiral Payton became a little distraught.

“Go ahead with a good ol’ fashioned 1800’s broadside on these TA bastards.” she ordered.

And so they did, wiping out a few hundred Mass-Produced Frigates. They were simply replaced by some extras hiding in the back of the group.

“What kind of a space battle is this!?” bitterly lamented an Assyrian gunner down below. “These invincible, unkillable littles shites! They bring in a force somewhat close to one hundred times the size of ours! And most of it is cheap cannon fodder. Let the Great Triangle damn the Third Alliance, then Briktoid, then Akkadia. And RIN and Trattoria while we’re at it too!”

The Scythian lieutenant commiserated. “Life is never fair. Our only hope is if a USA carrier group rescues us.”

The bridge was silent as the AN*US continued to pummel the Third Alliance with response fire.

Herr Direktor Alec wandered the massive holds of the Annihilator-class Super-Dreadnought. In the center, amidst rows of Omega Dooms, lay a single dreadnut, adorned in gold and RIN emblems. An RIN scientist approached him.

“Are you sure, Herr Alec? Once I entomb you in the dreadnut, it will not be easy to get you out.”

“I am confident, Mr. Giovanni. Admittedly, my mortal body is too damaged from earlier war, and if I don’t want to be gunned down pathetically by USA soldiers, I will need a new one.”

“If you insist, Kommander Alec.” The scientist sighed, with some sense of finality.

The operation was painful, but in the end, Kommander Alec came out even more powerful, encased in a suit of armor not even tank guns could penetrate. He spun his manipulator, then displayed his gun in a menacing position. Alec, once man, now stomped around in a robotic suit. Now, he was ready to lead the TA to victory on the ground, and watch the AN literally burn before his eyes.

In an intimidating mechanical voice, he ordered the scientist to begin stage two of Siri’s plan.

Once more, that devious teleporter onboard Der Vorsprung plucked the Omega Dooms and Gekkas from reality. A hole opened in the defensive shield of Mass-Produced Frigates, letting out an unending flood of TURDs, filled to the brim with both organic and mechanical infantry.

Kommander Alec closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he saw the shadows of an unending row of skyscrapers. And a crowd of civilians, their eyes opened wide and staring at him in surprise.

And then he opened fire.

(BTW, I have everything up to the halfway point done. Tell me if you want me to just release it all or release them one at a time like this)

A businessman looked up towards the sky. An iron sky, filled with falling ships.

He already knew what was to come- a mysterious person had called him late one night, with an offer. That person somehow knew his secret, and gave him a deal he couldn’t refuse.

Because, though none of his Wall Street friends knew it, he was Immortal.

When he was born, he tricked all of his friends into believing anything he said- this earned him the nickname of Loki, and it stuck. As it turned out, he had the power to convince anybody of his lies, and it wasn’t long before Lord Warhead appointed him as an undercover agent disguised as a Wall Street Banker. His official purpose was to gather information on how to bring down the economy of the Anti-Immortal Alliance. He didn’t care much for his official duties, though, and just appreciated the money and women that came his way through his job. Additionally, as was to be expected from someone like him, honesty and loyalty weren’t exactly his top priorities.

He received another call as transport ships tumbled from the sky, burying themselves in the ground below. The person still had the same voice.

“Loki, you are being activated. As these transport ships fall down to the ground, you are to look for the target we discussed earlier. You will know him when you see him.”

The mysterious person disconnected, and he shoved the Blackberry into his pocket. He then proceeded to get down on the ground and open the suitcase, and found his golden gun inside a hidden compartment, along with five golden bullets and three black-hole grenades. He took it out, and began surveying the scene of chaos around him, looking for his target.

The interior of the TURD was cramped, lacking in creature comforts, and all-around, utilitarian.

At least, that was what the enigmatic Commander NightOwl noted. He was at the helm of his own personal TURD, leading a force of Geraldden mercenaries.

“Alright boys, we’re making landfall soon. We’re already in atmospheric descent. Be prepared to shoot the moment you get off.”

The mercenaries nodded grimly- the lure of riches and women had attracted them to the offer, but they soon realized even their entire mercenary company couldn’t hold a candle to the forces they were facing in a war they were thrown into. They were fighting in the biggest city of the country that spends more than almost the rest of the brik-verse combined on military expenditures.

Soon, the TURD crashed through some skyscraper or other, with a loud crunch of metal and brick underneath. The access doors opened, and immediately the first few Geralddens were blown away by a tank shell. An Assyrian Artemis light tank, now painted white with a black AN logo on its turret, was reloading and preparing to fire another shot.

The Geraldden heavies quickly reacted, piercing the AN tank’s frontal armor and cooking the crew within. The minigunner, furious at the death of his comrades, unleashed his anger upon the burning husk.

They wandered through this sector of the city, looking for any sort of landmark towards the AN Headquarters. All they found were helpless civilians, their homes and family destroyed, and the never-ending armies of the Briktoid Automata, tricked into believing this was some urban map on Planetside. Off in the distance, he could see the heads of RIN Omega Dooms leveling the city. Commander NightOwl reflected upon the misery they were inflicting- what had these people done to deserve this nonsense?- but regardless, ordered them to attack any American or AN troops and tanks. Soon, USA Commissioner hovertanks began to roll in, demolishing indiscriminately buildings and enemy. NightOwl took up a minigun from a fallen comrade, and sprayed wildly with reckless abandon. What time was there for philosophy now? His mercs fought with all their effort just not to be driven to extinction. All that mattered now was blood, and explosions.